Of the Pyr, Kristofer, Rhys, Thorolf and Theo were right behind Arach. Bree and Lila were with them, too. The Pyr each had a new pair of gloves from Quinn. Bree had her Valkyrie sword and Lila carried a trident. Each one in the invading party had armed his or herself with a weapon—or two—of choice and each was grim. They were a veritable army and Arach suspected that even here, the gathering or the open portal might be spotted by some curious human.
The sword was cold and heavy in his grip. He wasn’t entirely sure how to wield it, much less whether it would respond to the will of someone who wasn’t Fae. He and Wynter had debated the merit of testing it in advance, but ultimately had agreed that doing so might reveal their scheme to Maeve.
At least they agreed on something.
A distant clock struck six.
It was now or never.
“Good luck to all of you,” Arach said to the silent company gathered behind him in the shadows. “Remember: don’t drink or eat anything. Don’t be fooled and don’t make any deals. Whatever you do, don’t start dancing. I hope to see you all afterward.”
He sensed their nods and felt them brace themselves for the worst. More than one gripped a weapon more tightly. Arach lifted the blade and tried to forget how he’d been cursed by Maeve just for entering her realm uninvited.
“Do it, dragon dude,” Wynter whispered and he grimaced that she never called him by his name. “Do it now.”
Arach willed the weapon to open a portal for him, sliced downward with one savage gesture and hoped. He and Wynter gasped in unison as a silver sliver of light opened between the realms. Arach could see the endless heath of Fae and the twilit sky, the one devoid of clouds and stars. In the distance, there was a mound, a golden light shining from a portal near its base. Lilting music carried over the heath, beckoning them closer. Arach shivered deep inside, unable to forget his last visit to the Fae court, and opened the portal wider. Wynter, of course, pushed past him to enter the hidden realm first, which didn’t surprise him in the least.
He followed her, then stood guard as the intruders silently surged through the gap. No sooner had Arach closed the portal between the realms than the Fae attacked.
“Ready?” Rania asked Alasdair.
That Pyr shrugged. “As ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s do it.”
The group from New York City should be entering Fae and Rania hated that she had no way to verify that they were in position. It was terrifying to embark on such an important quest and be reliant upon others to ensure success. On the other hand, they needed every talon, claw, and blade. Rania had to trust that Hadrian had melted the Fae armory, and that he’d remained undetected for three whole days. Who even knew how long that might seem in Fae? She hadn’t slept at all since leaving him there. She’d been surprised that Alasdair had changed his mind about entering Fae, but he’d insisted that he wasn’t going to miss out on a battle to the finish with the Dark Queen.
They’d decided that instead of pretending to kill him in front of Maeve, which could go badly wrong, she’d bring his apparent corpse to the court. He’d bank the fires so that his pulse couldn’t be detected and would play dead.
It still felt risky to Rania.
Balthasar had left earlier in the evening, hoping to locate the old mound where Hadrian’s father had entered the Fae realm. His reasoning that they should attack from as many points as possible was hard to dispute, but Rania felt that they were too scattered. She had two knives from her own collection, including the kesir that Hadrian had returned to her, and an old favorite, a fifteenth-century katar. The push dagger was small and easy to hide. She feared her entire collection wouldn’t be enough—not if Maeve starting casting spells.
“You’re sure?” she asked Alasdair again.
He grinned and that made him resemble Hadrian enough to make Rania’s heart tug. “Let’s go. Sooner started, sooner finished, as my father liked to say.”
Rania took a deep breath, gripped his hand, and flung them into Fae.
At least she thought she’d taken them to Fae. When the maelstrom of light stilled, she didn’t recognize their location at all. It was dark, darker than Rania remembered Fae to be. She realized that it wasn’t twilight anymore, even though it had always been twilight in Fae in her experience. There were still no stars overhead, though, and no clouds, and the heath spread from beneath their feet into the distance.
Alasdair lifted a finger and pointed to the glow of light emanating from beneath a hill nearby. That music flowed from the hall, along with the sound of laughter and singing. As always, the eternal party was in full swing.
She’d deliberately not taken them right into the court, wanting to have a sense of what was going on before revealing themselves. Except for the sky being darker, everything was as expected. She and Alasdair exchanged a glance and he shifted shape in a shimmer of brilliant blue. She sat beside him and listened as his breathing slowed.
When it seemed he wasn’t breathing at all, he shifted back to human form, just as Hadrian had done. He could have been a corpse on the heath. Rania closed her eyes, gripped his hand and wished them to Maeve.
Yasmina had stayed low in Fae after Rania delivered her there. It had taken her some time to get into the treasury—even though she could assume her smoke form and slide beneath the door, the chamber had been heavily guarded. Leaving with the prize in her human form, and doing so unobserved, had been the challenge.
She could have struck down a guard if she’d moved quickly and surprised him, but Yasmina was a healer through and through. She couldn’t bring herself to end even a Fae life. She knew the stakes and she told herself to get over it, but each time she raised the blade, she let it slide to her side again.
She listened at a lot of keyholes, gathering what tidings she could, and soon realized that there was a plague of some kind in Fae. They whispered of it, fear in their hushed voices, and she saw the purple blemishes that stained their skin. She saw the marks spread and had never seen the like of them. As a healer, she was intrigued.
Time had to be slipping away, though. It was hard to keep track in Fae, but Yasmina knew that Rania would be challenging the Dark Queen at the arranged time. She had to get the gem of the hoard to Hadrian in the armory before that.
The sky grew steadily darker, as if deepest night was falling.
When Yasmina saw the caged swans being hauled to the court, she knew she had to act.
The guard before the treasury was one she’d learned was the least energetic. Maybe it was because of the purple stain spreading down his arms. It was on his neck, too, and he seemed to find it itchy. He rubbed his brow and sighed, then one of his fingertips fell off.
Yasmina and the guard watched it shrivel, then turn to a brown leaf and blow away. He chased it, snatching it up from the ground and trying to fit it back on his hand. Instead, it crumbled to dust.
He looked around and spotted her. His mouth opened to raise the alarm. Yasmina lifted her uncle’s bichuwa, but the guard suddenly shrank into himself. He transformed into a field mouse before her very eyes, one that had a faintly purple tinge to its fur. He looked to be as surprised as she was. Then his fur changed to plain brown and he scurried away, disappearing into the growth on the heath.
The brass key to the treasury lay on the ground where he had dropped it. Yasmina seized it and entered the treasury to claim the prize.